


Blame It On the Weather

by zelda_zee



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-19
Updated: 2010-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:19:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arriving home unexpectedly, Jared gets a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame It On the Weather

There’s a snowstorm and the airport is shut down tight. Jared’s spent hours cooling his heels in the VIP lounge while his assistant tried every way she could to get him out of Vancouver so that he could make it to LA for the interviews he has scheduled for tomorrow – make that _had_ scheduled for tomorrow.

Apparently, the weather doesn’t make exceptions for the schedules of TV actors. Jared finds his interviews cancelled and his ass hustled back out into the whirling snow and into the town car for the slow and slippery drive back to his house.

It’s two o’clock in the morning, so he tries to be quiet coming in, even though he knows the dogs will hear him and make a racket regardless of how stealthy he is. But… no dogs. He hears a faint whine from down the hall. The dogs are in his room then. And that’s the first strange thing.

The second is a sound, coming from the living room. A moan – a pretty loud moan, deep and raspy, and then a voice – a _man’s_ voice, but not Jensen’s. A voice that’s familiar, but Jared can’t place it – and, holy shit. The voice is saying, “ _Fuck_ , Jen. God, _God_ , that’s so, so fucking _good_.”

A _man’s_ voice. Jared’s frozen to the spot, staring at the sliver of light slanting across the floor of the foyer. From where he is, he can see the lamp on the side table, the arm of the couch and a white-knuckled hand gripping the back of it. If he moves forward just a bit he’ll be able to see who the hand belongs to, but instead he just stands there, heart pounding, listening.

He hears Jensen hiss, “ _Jesus_ ,” sounding strung-out and hoarse. He hears the other guy murmur something and then laugh breathlessly and then Jensen say, quite distinctly, “You gonna talk about it or you gonna do it?” There’s a pause, followed by a heartfelt groan that leads Jared to believe that the unknown guy is indeed doing it at that very moment.

“Holy fuck,” Jensen whines, his voice tight and thready. And then he whispers it – “ _Misha_.”

Jared’s jaw drops for a moment and then he snaps it shut. Of course, that’s why that deep, raspy voice was so familiar. But… _holy crap_. He inches forward, carefully, because – because he’s gotta see, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He should turn around and leave, only there’s nowhere to go because it’s snowing like a bastard and they might hear him anyway if he opens the front door again. And to get to the rest of the house he has to go through the living room, where Jensen and Misha are apparently fucking on Jared’s leather couch, and if they ruin it, Jensen is so buying him a new one. So he’s kind of stuck and he might as well make the best of it, or anyway that’s what he tells himself, ignoring the niggling little part of his brain that’s saying he’s a total shit for doing this. But man, he’s gotta see for himself because… well, he’s just _gotta_.

All he can see of Jensen is the back of his head, tipped up, looking at Misha. Misha… Jared stares, forgetting to breathe. Misha’s riding Jensen with a measured, rolling rhythm. His eyes are almost closed, just slit open, glazed and far away. His neck is arched, his mouth slack, moaning softly, totally into it. The light from the lamp slants golden over the lithe, smooth muscles of his arms and shoulders and Jared’s a little stunned at how hot he looks. Misha – he’s an attractive guy, sure, that fact hasn’t been lost on Jared, but he’s not really Jared’s type. Too skinny, too delicate, too geeky, plus he’s nearly ten years older than Jared and, even though Jared’s not really intimidated by anybody, sometimes he is, just a little, by Misha.

But _Jesus_ , Misha does _not_ look skinny or delicate or geeky or old at the moment. No, the only word for Misha at the moment is _hot_ , or maybe _gorgeous_. Or _fuckable_. Or possibly all of the above.

Jared adjusts himself in his jeans, then just keeps rubbing at his hardening cock, watching Misha fuck himself on Jensen’s dick, listening to the noises they’re making, nothing too loud, but lots of sexy sounds, moans and gasps and panting and cut-off words.

Jensen slides his hands into Misha’s hair, tips his head down so he can kiss him and somehow that just makes it all so much hotter. Jared steadies himself against the wall, presses the heel of his hand against his twitching dick. He can hear the wet, sloppy sound of their kissing, see the pink of Misha’s tongue push into Jensen’s mouth.

They kiss for a long time, panting, moaning kisses that make Jared’s skin break out in goosebumps, make him wonder when’s the last time anyone kissed _him_ like that, like if they had to stop it would _kill_ them. Jared closes his eyes, breath hitching, trying to get a grip, figure out what to do. But then he has to look again, and all he can do is watch, helpless to turn away.

Misha kisses his way back to Jensen’s ear and then he’s whispering something, something that makes Jensen gasp and then groan. Misha’s voice is low and urgent, but Jared can’t make out any words. Jensen says something, a question from his tone, and Misha replies in another rapid-fire whisper and Jensen says something else, and then Misha, back and forth until Jared starts to think maybe they’re going to forget about fucking and just sit there on the couch and have a whispered conversation with each other.

And then Misha looks up, wet-mouthed and heavy-lidded, eyes dark as fuck and he’s staring right at Jared.

Right. At. Him.

“Hey Jared,” he drawls in a lazy, sexed-out voice.

Jared goes cold and then hot, swallows around the lump in his throat. His heart pounds so hard it scares him and all the hair on his body stands on end. He’s caught – so totally caught.

Misha keeps his eyes on Jared, rises up, shoves himself down on Jensen’s cock. His flush deepens, eyelids flutter, mouth opens on a quiet moan. Fuck, the look on his face – Jared can barely breathe, fingernails digging into his palms.

Jensen twists around and now they’re both looking at him. Misha smiles. His eyes move down to Jared’s crotch and the smile widens.

“I – uh.” Jared knows he’s beet red. “I should – uh.” He looks away, down, anywhere but at them, takes a stumbling step back and then another, hand fumbling for the doorknob. How’s he ever going to explain this? How on earth can he make excuses for spying on them like this? “Fuck.”

“Come here,” says Misha. Jared’s head snaps up. He freezes, off-balance, no idea what’s going on. Jensen’s gazing up at Misha, and they exchange a look. There’s a lot of information communicated in that look, but Jared’s not fluent in whatever secret language they’ve got going, so he’s out of the loop.

“C’mon, Jay,” Jensen says, turning back to him again. “It’s okay. If you wanna watch, then come over here and watch.” His lip quirks sideways in a grin that’s so familiar.

 _Jesus_ , Jared thinks, _This is_ Jensen _and he’s sitting there talking to me with his dick up Misha’s ass. Jesus._

Jared feels like he’s frozen to the spot, stuck between utter humiliation, unbearable curiosity, sheer terror, and a dick so hard it could pound nails.

Misha rocks, riding Jensen’s cock slow and easy.

“Mish, wait,” Jensen hisses, but Misha only speeds up, squeezing his eyes shut, a little line appearing between his brows as if he’s concentrating on trying to get something right.

“Can’t,” Misha pants. “Taking too long. Need it now, Jen.” His voice twists into a whine, eyes glittering beneath half-closed lids, gaze fastened on Jared. He’s fucking down on Jensen wilder, faster, and Jensen’s head has fallen back to rest on the couch, hands clutching Misha’s hips as if he’s helpless to do anything but let Misha have his way. “Fuck, you’re hot,” Misha gasps, eyes still glued to Jared. “Watching us. You like it, yeah, like what you see. You’re - _oh fuck_ \- so hard, aren’t you? C’mere. Jared. C’mere.”

Jared moves finally, feeling like he’s in a dream, like his feet aren’t connecting to the floor. Somehow he finds himself on the other side of the couch, right there beside them. He thought he had a view from the hallway, but here… here everything’s _real_ up close and personal.

They’re both naked, their clothes scattered around them on the floor like they tore them off in a hurry and let them fall where they may. There’s so much skin – Jensen fair and freckled, skin shining with a light film of sweat, the pale hairs on his thighs glinting in the light, and the smooth, flawless expanse of Misha’s back, his skin looking warmly golden next to Jensen’s. Jared can see the beads of sweat creeping along Misha’s spine, can smell the heady aroma of sex. Every little detail seems to stand out, sharp and clear.

Jensen’s hands splay over Misha’s ass, lift him up until just the head of his cock is still inside, and spread his cheeks open. Misha gasps _Jen_ , and he grabs onto the back of the couch, handfuls of cushion in his fists. Jared can see it all – Jensen’s shiny, condom-clad dick filling Misha’s hole, how he's stretched so widely around it. Jared forgets to breathe, can’t look away.

Jensen tilts his hips up, thigh muscles flexing, and fucks Misha with short, stabbing thrusts. Misha keens, his back arching, tries to push down onto Jensen’s cock, but Jensen keeps him where he is, his fingers digging into Misha’s flesh in a way that looks painful. Jared bets Misha will have ten finger-shaped bruises on his ass tomorrow.

“Fucking tease,” Misha pants. He twists his hips, writhing on the end of Jensen’s dick. “Goddammit, Jensen.”

Jensen smiles lazily up at Misha, then his eyes flick up to Jared. “I think he wants something.” He gives Misha a wide-eyed, innocent look. “What d’you want, Mish?” Jared watches Jensen’s middle fingers rub over the rosy rim, tracing around it, feeling how his cock disappears into Misha’s body. “Say it. You want my cock, baby?”

“Mmmm.” Misha’s lips press together, his teeth digging into the bottom one. He shudders, eyes fluttering open and, for a moment, Jared thinks he’s about to say what Jensen wants to hear. Then he shoots Jared a wicked look and pulls up and off Jensen’s dick, fast, before Jensen has a chance to react.

“What’re you –” Jensen starts, but Misha’s already on his feet, only wobbling a little. Jensen’s sprawled on the couch, all long limbs and sleek muscles, and just looking at him makes Jared’s mouth water.

Jensen’s eyes are on Misha though and the hunger in them surprises Jared. He’d assumed this was just a buddy fuck, but now he wonders if there might be more to it.

Jensen’s eyes meet Jared’s and he raises his eyebrows and kind of shrugs, as if to say _well, who knew we’d end up like this?_. Jared can’t help chuckling, because yeah, it’s a pretty crazy situation, but then his attention’s captured by Misha, who’s right in front of him, reaching up to slide a warm hand behind Jared’s neck and pull him down for a kiss, and, God help him, Jared lets him. Misha’s lips are full and soft and his mouth is hot and sweet and tastes like wine and sex and it makes Jared shiver to think that maybe he can taste Jensen in Misha’s mouth. He can’t help opening his eyes though, pushing Misha back a bit to check on Jensen, because if Jensen’s not okay with this, then somehow Jared’s going to find the will power to walk away. But Jensen doesn’t look like he’s not okay with it – he’s watching them from beneath lowered lids, hand languidly tugging on his dick.

“Jared,” Misha says softly, turning Jared’s face back to his. “It’s okay. Really, it is.” Misha kisses him again, pushing his tongue into Jared’s mouth and this time it’s aggressive and demanding and wildly exciting. Jared’s hands are on Misha’s back, moving up and down, wanting to feel everything, every inch of insanely smooth, satiny skin. He peeks at Jensen again and Jensen’s eyes are focused intently on Jared’s hands. Jared skims them slowly down to Misha’s ass, spreads them out over his cheeks and squeezes. Misha moans into Jared’s mouth, nips at his lips then slides his tongue deeper. He presses himself to Jared all along his front, his hips arching forward and, more than anything, Jared wishes he was naked, that he could feel Misha’s skin against his. He slips two fingers down Misha’s crack and presses on his hole. It’s soft and loose under his fingertips, wet with lube. Misha gasps when Jared pushes the fingers in and Jared shudders, feeling his cock jerk where he’s grinding it against Misha’s hip. He moves his fingers in and out, slow and easy and Misha’s clinging to him and moaning against his lips, not even really kissing him anymore.

“What d’you want, Jared?” Misha whispers urgently, kissing his jaw, his ear. “You can have whatever you want. Just say.”

Jared wants a lot of things, but he’s not so stupid or blinded by lust that he thinks it’s okay to just ask for them in this situation he’s stumbled into. So he goes with something relatively safe – and hell, it’s not like there are any bad answers to that question, anyway.

“Wanna see you – you and Jensen.” Jared pushes his fingers just right and Misha groans loudly. He opens his eyes, sees Jensen sitting up, hand still working his dick, leaning forward like he’s on the verge of tackling them both, and Jared thinks he’d probably be okay with that. He leans down and whispers in Misha’s ear, his eyes locked on Jensen. “See Jensen fuck you. See him shove his cock right – up – here,” he says, punctuating his words with thrusts of his fingers. “Watch him fill you up good, fuck you hard.” Jared’s not even sure what he’s saying anymore. He feels like he’s coming unglued, can’t help it, he’s so fucking strung out. “Wanna watch you fuck yourself on his dick, see you make him come. Fuck – I – _fuck_.”

Jared pulls his fingers free and steers Misha back toward Jensen, hands on his shoulders. He kicks the coffee table out of the way with his foot, steadies Misha when he stumbles as the backs of his legs hit the sofa. Jensen’s hands are on his hips then, pulling him down and back. Misha’s staring at Jared, looking so turned on, so hungry, pupils blown wide.

“Jen,” he murmurs hoarsely when Jensen pulls him down onto his lap. Misha twists, seeking Jensen’s mouth. Jensen’s hand slides up Misha’s neck to cradle his jaw, thumb rubbing back and forth over the soft skin beneath Misha’s ear. He slants his mouth over Misha’s, kissing him firmly, deeply, tongues sliding against each other. Jensen’s other hand moves to Misha’s cock and wraps around it, just holding him, thumb making little circles beneath the head. Misha squirms, trying to move but unable to get the leverage to do it. Jared stares, hypnotized as droplets bead up out of Misha’s cock and Jensen smears them around with his thumb.

“Sit forward,” Jensen says, reaching for the lube. Misha does, and Jared falls to his knees in front of them, takes Misha’s mouth in an ardent kiss. God, it’s all too much, too intense and Misha pulls back, gasping, “Fuck, c’mon Jared. Show us your dick, I wanna see you jerk off, c’mon lemme see. Oh _fuck_.”

When Jared opens his eyes he can see Jensen’s got his fingers up Misha’s ass, but it’s quick, because then he’s lubing up his own dick again and one hand is tight on Misha’s hip lifting, guiding him, and then he jerks his pelvis up and drags Misha down, impaling him. Misha cries out, and then again as Jensen presses up, grunting as he grinds in deep. Jensen can’t really thrust, not with Misha’s weight resting on his lap, but he flexes his hips in short, dirty jabs and Misha makes up for Jensen’s limited movement by working himself on Jensen’s dick like he’ll never get enough.

Jared scrabbles at his zipper, just fucking desperate to get his cock out. He’s so hard it hurts and it’s driving him nuts. He needs relief in the worst way, needs it that very second. Jared groans as he wraps his hand around his cock, groans again when he looks up and sees Misha watching him with parted lips and dark, glassy eyes. Misha doesn’t say anything, just fucks down hard on Jensen, making a pained, whining sound as he watches Jared jerk off.

Misha grabs Jared behind his neck and pulls him forward into a kiss, and the fact that he’s moaning more than he’s kissing doesn’t really lessen the impact of it. Jared feels Jensen shift, feels it in the shift of Misha’s body and then they’re all moving, Jared being pushed onto his back on the floor by Misha’s hands on his shoulders, Misha coming down above him onto all fours, Jensen slipping off the couch behind Misha, kneeling up behind him, taking his narrow hips in his hands and pounding into him good and hard.

Misha starts making a lot more noise, sobs and broken words and little animal cries, Jensen’s voice, low and filthy, weaving in and out of it in counterpoint.

“Yeah,” he growls. “That’s right. You’re gonna come so fucking hard. Gonna come so hard and Jared’s gonna watch it, see how much you love my cock, see what a little slut you are, such a – fucking – slut – for my – cock,” punctuating each word by snapping his hips forward.

“Fuck,” Jared breathes, as he watches Jensen seize up, head thrown back, his entire body quaking helplessly as he comes. Misha’s gasping against Jared’s neck, his face pressed hotly to Jared’s skin, rocking back and forth, his motions urgent and uncoordinated. Jared feels a deep shudder go through him and then there’s a splash of wet against his stomach and it’s so fucking hot Jared thinks he’s gonna die, Misha coming all over him like that.

Most of Misha’s weight is on Jared’s chest, though his ass is still up in the air and Jensen’s still thrusting desultorily as Misha shivers out the last of his orgasm.

“Holy fucking Christ,” Misha mutters as he goes limp on top of Jared. Jensen pulls out and Misha collapses in slow motion, coming to rest on top of Jared.

“Ow,” he says, when Jared’s cock pokes him in the stomach. He lifts his head and his face is soft and flushed. “Watch where you put that thing, Jared. You could hurt a guy.” He shifts and Jared groans. He’s close, has been for a long time, just needs a – _fuck yeah_.

“Fuck yeah,” he chokes out as Misha swipes a hand through the come on Jared’s belly and closes it around his cock, jerking him quick and tight, and it takes only a minute before Jared bucks and arches and moans and shoots over Misha’s hand, adding to the mess already decorating his stomach. It’s a sharp, splintery orgasm, pain and pleasure chasing each other over his nerves. It loosens his voice and whites out his mind and leaves him stupid and boneless afterward.

Misha rolls off him and lies panting on the rug. Jensen gets up and pulls on a pair of sweats and flops down onto the couch. After a while, Misha gets up and joins him, picking up a throw that had fallen onto the floor and snuggling down into it, his feet nudging Jensen’s thigh.

Jared tucks himself back in and sits up, feeling out of place as the silence lengthens. He wonders if he should say something, and if so, what it should be. When he glances up, both Misha and Jensen are watching him, so he figures the ball’s in his court.

“About the….” Jared clears his throat awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to. The airport was closed, and I just – I didn’t think when I came in, and you guys were just _there_. I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you watched,” Jensen says flatly. His eyes are half-closed, and Jared can’t see what’s going on in there. In the heat of the moment, neither Jensen nor Misha seemed upset, but now that everyone is… calmer, there’s no telling which way this will go.

“Yeah,” Jared sighs. “I watched.”

“That was wrong,” Misha says seriously. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

 _Oh shit_ , Jared thinks. _So this’s how it’s going to go?_

“I’m sorry?” He isn’t sorry though, and he knows they both know it.

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it,” Jensen says, glancing at Misha. Their eyes meet and something passes between them, Jared isn’t sure what.

“You’re gonna have to prove how sorry you are,” Misha says. He leans forward. “How far would you go to get back in our good graces, Jared?”

“I think he needs to be punished first,” says Jensen, giving Jared a calculating look. He smiles, a bit predatory, a bit conspiratorial, and Jared’s breath hitches as he feels the pink burn up into his cheeks.

“Oh, absolutely.” Misha smiles, not his happy, crinkle-nosed smile, but something darker, more carnal. “I can definitely come up with an appropriate punishment. Something fitting to the crime.”

“Guys,” Jared says helplessly, looking back and forth between them. He’s mortified and confused and aroused, all in about equal measure. They’re ganging up on him, and there’s no way he’s equal to the task of holding his own against Misha and Jensen when they’re in cahoots. “C’mon. I’m really sorry. I’ll – I’ll do whatever you say to make it right.”

“Damn straight you will,” Jensen says beneath his breath.

“But, c’mon – punishment?” Jared waits for them to admit it’s a joke.

Misha tilts his head in a way that’s almost Castiel-like. The corner of Jensen’s lip lifts into a smirk. Jared’s cock twitches traitorously.

“There’s no way I’m getting out of this, is there?” he asks.

“Do you want to?” Jensen sounds genuinely curious, and like they’re talking about something completely mundane – what show to watch on TV or where to have dinner.

Jared feels hot all over, like his skin’s too tight. He thinks maybe he made a big mistake getting mixed up in this thing of Jensen’s and Misha’s. He thinks maybe it’ll turn out to be the smartest thing he’s ever done.

He takes a deep, controlled breath and steps off into the deep end. “No,” he says. “No, not really.”

 


End file.
